


Satellite Of Love

by ignited



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Comedy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-02
Updated: 2007-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignited/pseuds/ignited
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The downfalls of tight security, secret broadcasts, and why costumed PDA might be considered a no-go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satellite Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://worlds-finest.livejournal.com/profile)[**worlds_finest**](http://worlds-finest.livejournal.com/) [Secret Santa Exchange](http://superbatsanta.livejournal.com) on [](http://quirky-circe.livejournal.com/profile)[**quirky_circe**](http://quirky-circe.livejournal.com/)’s request.
> 
>  
> 
> _Secret Santa Request #163: Security cameras pick Superman and Batman together on a mission or on the tower, and the feed is broadcast over the whole Watchtower. The other characters' reactions._

The news reports are constant, stream of information via satellites, televisions, word of mouth flowing throughout the Watchtower. Old photography and files bring up dust in the air, piles of memorabilia, cases, all looked over and scrutinized. They point fingers here and say, “Isn’t it obvious?” and point fingers there and say, “I knew then.”

And what’s funny is that they didn’t know, but they all one-up each other in trying to find a new angle for this story. Angles, sources, it’s all mixing in that torrent of surprise and scrutiny.

There! It’s playing again, on the screens. Dozens of heroes stop, drop what they’re doing, and like moths to a flame, _watch_.

Blurred smoke and flames, rubble, shaky camera. It’s all amateur-ish, if only because the building’s security camera shakes as there’s lasers and fire in the distance, some rampaging monster (they forget _who_ and _what_ , it isn’t as important now) terrorizing downtown Gotham. _Gotham_. Gotham isn’t a place for monsters (inhuman ones); it’s for crooks and rapists. Some members of the Justice League are scattered on screen, flashes of green, red, blue here and there, little spots of color that dart across the screen in the air and on the ground; the camera’s struggling to catch up.

Black spot, zoom in (they ask and point, keystrokes tapped in response, zooming), it’s Batman.

He’s pinned under a large piece of rubble, one that’s now flung fifty feet by bare hands.

Superman floats up and down, throwing up rubble frantically, diving in until he can pull Batman free. His mouth moves but the sound doesn’t pick up. Face streaked dirty, hair in disarray, uniform ripped. He’s a mess that grabs Batman and listens to his chest, then begins to pump. Mouth to mouth. Pump. Nothing.

Mouth to mouth, a moment – an explosion nearby goes off, sending up rock and dust, camera jerks – before Batman wakes and coughs.

And then there’s mouth to mouth again, and Superman is out of control, he’s crushing Batman, look, he’s holding him so close and doesn’t he know Batman is awake and doesn’t need mouth to mouth anymore?

And why is Batman responding?

The camera shakes and then the feed switches to another angle, darts up, zooms out to view that monster. A shapeless thing, claws scattered on its hide, limbs lashing out at buildings. Mortar, stone, glass rains down. Broad daylight in Gotham, doing this – Gotham by day, such a peculiar sight – leaving disrupted people in its wake, running terrified. Batman has rarely – if ever – been seen during the day, least of all being given mouth to mouth (a kiss, he _kissed_ him) by Superman.

Another pause, the camera jerks, before Batman and Superman disappear from view a split second. The gaze moves, frantic, and someone will inevitably shout and point. There they are, Superman carrying Batman, flying up and straight away. Batman’s knocked out in his arms; Superman’s shouting. Two seconds, and they’re gone.

The clip is over. Leaguers, mature, inexperienced, comment. It’s a mix of news, of opinions: slow, fast. Reading subtext into what might be there, what might not be there. Wonder Woman speaks via intercom to a group of upper level leaguers – Green Arrow, Black Canary and the like, giving lots of “no comments,” but they still say other things, things like privacy and battles, life, death. She’s asked about Batman’s condition (fine, cranky) and other questions, related, just about Batman. It’s a first as they go with a different angle, this tide of questions move as though to show concern, more interest in Batman than ever before. Each are scrutinized, and Diana speaks to an extent, until she ends the transmission abruptly, citing founding member business.

The Watchtower’s occupants – and therefore, inquiring, best, the brightest minds – are abuzz.

 

\--

 

Wally is not used to sitting down without something to do. He feels it isn’t natural, this, sitting quiet without _moving_ and having something – at least a magazine, or someone to talk to, or a game, or—

“GL!” he nearly shouts – okay, totally does – and jumps up, has an arm around John’s shoulder after running circles around him twice, split second and John is possibly glaring at him, Wally can’t really tell, but there’s option two, talking—

John, nonplussed, asks, “What did you do?”

“What did I do? I take offense, my compadre. I’m shocked. I’m hurt. What did _I_ do. The little you know, my friend, the little you know,” Wally states, wags a finger in front of John before nearly pushing him into the meeting area. “Where have _you_ been?”

“On a mission. You know, doing real work?” John’s raising his eyebrow as he says this, as Wally shoves him towards a bank of computers. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Maybe it isn’t me, but what’s gotten into _them_. Uh? Uh huh. Oh, my friend, you _have_ been missing out. Take a look-see.”

 

\--

 

It happens once more, and this time the entire league locks into the secret feed as though it’s a pay per view. It isn’t like it’s announced – it’s whispers, secret messages passed here and there, light signals or outstretched arms – Elongated Man gesturing, for instance, that quick, it’s happening _again_ , get thee to a monitor, ASAP, and so on and so forth—

“We shouldn’t be watching this.”

“Oh, no, you’re right, we shouldn’t.”

“Batman will kill us.”

“He will.”

Not that they make any move to get up from the couch, Shayera or Vixen. Can’t have that.

 

 

\--

 

 

It’s in a corridor with pale blue lights and it’s blatant, obvious, destaruated blobs of color becoming less fuzzy, more in focus on monitors. Static, lines and soon the feed’s corrected, clearer, snowy picture but better than nothing—

Tension’s palpable too, besides the audience wanting a decent look, and the rigidity, the line of muscles as they stretch and arch into each other, half in shadow. Superman’s against a wall, the corner of it, with Batman leaning into him, whispers something. Then his fingers follow, caresses Superman’s jaw for a brief moment and time slows – he kisses him, intimately, holds his jaw with one hand, the other snakes down his belly, muscles, brushes over blue, then red, hand on his ass – they guess, has to be, cape’s billowing but _has_ to be and—

An alarm sounds and the trance breaks. Leaguers snap into action, moving away. Stragglers not running towards the next crisis see a quick kiss exchanged – _be careful / you too_ – before they follow suit.

 

\--

 

Green Arrow’s on assignment when he hears on his communicator – it’s in the voice, the way Shayera talks, and the way Wally’s talking in the background, foreground, grunts, he’s being pushed away. Shayera’s at the monitors, Ollie knows, with Wally hovering over her shoulder.

“Batman and I split up,” he says, steps over discarded trash, boxes. Alleyway in Gotham. It’s early by his standards – lights in windows, stores about to close, the sky’s barely dark – but they’re on assignment, tracking down a lead for a case. He starts to climb up a fire escape, heads towards the roof. “He took off on another way while we were chasing some bad guys. Took care of mine already. He hasn’t returned my calls. I’m beginning to feel like a cheap date.”

“I bet he’s _busy_!” Wally.

Something, a noise, Wally giving a small groan of pain in the background. “Enough with the emphasis on every other word, Flash, we _get_ it.”

Ollie frowns. “What is he blathering about now?”

“You know, the… You didn’t—I thought you of all people would know!” Shayera snorts. “Batman. And Superman. They were – they’re—”

“Oh. That,” he answers, flashes a grin to an empty roof. “Heading back to the Watchtower now.”

He’s grinning as he’s teleported, the last words before he arrives being, “Who do you think put up the secret feed?”

 

\--

 

Clark’s walking towards the next debriefing when he sees the first glance. A nod. Another, then another, smiles here and there. There’s an tingling feeling to the back of his neck that he can’t quite shake, like that dream in junior year where he starts firing off heat vision blasts in class – his version of ‘only in underwear’ – that something’s not quite right, and he’s being watched.

He’s Superman though, thinks it comes with the territory, at least hopes that, or that he’s put his cape on wrong, something, or maybe it’s actually the fact that he’s a grown man walking around in a bright costume in primary colors – but that’d be Bruce talking like he does lately and –

“John,” Clark says, automatic, finds he’s standing in front of him in a corridor all of a sudden as leaguers wander by. “Hi.”

“Hey, Clark. Listen,” John starts, grabs Clark by the forearm and pulls him close, half-handshake, half-hug, pats him hard on the back. Clark’s eyebrows shoot up, feels his mouth open to question but John cuts him off. “Listen, whatever it is, it’s fine by me. I’m always here to talk. But be careful. And you might want to—you know – talk about… it. It’s okay, man.”

John pulls away and starts down the hallway, walks backwards as he says, “I took care of Ollie for you. It’s on me!”

Clark finds that he can’t talk and that he’s staring, but he doesn’t know what else to do, other than head towards the main monitors area and try to ignore that feeling of being flustered, to not to burn anything like in teenage daydreams.

 

\--

 

It’s the Justice League and so there’s always Plan B. In the event of discovery, please shatter glass and press the button – here we go, here’s the secret, _secret_ broadcast! It’s what Wally thinks Ollie would want him to do, in his honor or his stead, that kind of thing. Plus, Ollie’s sitting this one out as Dinah’s given him two black eyes after something GL said wasn’t good—so Wally carries the torch. He’s the torchbearer. It’s his job. Fastest Man Alive and fastest feed alive and – oh. It’s on! Cool.

“Shh. Shh! Shhh! Watch!”

Vigilante, Shining Knight, Booster Gold and that little robot of his, Skeets, oh and Fire and Ice and like, _everyone_ practically – okay, like Hawk and Dove, that’s it, but Hawk’s pretty big as it is – are in Wally’s quarters, seated around a laptop that’s got a full screen view of one boring grey paneled hallway.

Wally shoves some comic books and candy bars into a drawer that’s sticking out of his desk, shouts a “hey!” when Elongated Man stretches and bumps into him trying to get a better view. “There!” Gestures, points. “It’s Batman!”

“What is the purpose of this endeavor?” Shining Knight asks, cants his head. “All I see before me is the Dark Knight partially obscured by what you refer to as snow.”

They all shush him, seeing another shadow come into view, over Batman’s shoulder.

“Vigilante, why is this called snow when it is not falling from the heavens but rather in this small device?”

Vigilante shakes his head; his eyes narrow. “Put a sock in it, Sir Justin, they just might be knockin’ boots in that there hallway.”

Naturally, everyone looks at Vigilante, who shrugs and nods towards the screen. Attention resumes.

Batman and Superman talk, closely – Superman’s head and shoulders are visible, over Batman’s shoulder. They’re closer than before – to the camera – but they aren’t doing anything really, except for—oh, oh, Wally leans forward, as do everyone else, Superman’s eyes are lowered; he talks and his arm, hand moves down – they can judge by the way his shoulders move – as he stands in front of Batman. He’s doing something to him, isn’t he? Looks like it—

Batman turns towards the camera, Superman’s hand rests on his shoulder. He gives a very Batman-like stare – which consists of a glare that’ll melt your insides, not in a good way – and there isn’t a person who doesn’t jerk, jump (except Ralph, but that’s because he stretches out of the way and behind Booster) and Batman, quite clearly, mouths three words:

“Turn it off.”

They do, for fear of disintegration.

 

\--

 

“Do you love him?”

Diana sits next to Clark in the founding members’ meeting room. Her knee brushes his as she puts a lock of hair behind her ear, leans forward to look at his face. Clark rests his elbows on his knees as he looks over at the round table and empty chairs.

“I… care about him. Deeply. I don’t know why, but I do. I can’t shake it, Diana.”

“So it’s serious, then. You do love him.”

“I – I think I do. God.” Here he buries his face in his hands, briefly, then laughs and rubs the bridge of his nose. He laughs again, quick, before he shakes his head in disbelief, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t believe this. Of all people. Bruce.”

He turns to look at her, cants his head, and asks her, “Do you think – I mean, do you think it’s… okay?”

She shrugs. “It isn’t what I think; it’s what makes the both of you happy. He does appear different. That’s good. You’re good for him, Clark. He needs it, and he needs you.”

“Then we’ll have to have a meeting to discuss this with everyone.”

“But – your privacy—”

“I think our privacy was gone once it was broadcast over the whole Watchtower,” Clark answers dryly, smiles again. “Bruce doesn’t know whether to thank or scold Dinah. He wanted to give Ollie a matching black eye but she got to him first, thanks to John’s… taking care of the situation.”

After a moment, Diana starts to laugh, and Clark follows, echoes that liven up an otherwise empty, half-lit room.

 

\--

 

They discuss Clark’s plan but apparently Bruce wishes to talk via video screen rather than communicator and can Clark patch him through?

Clark does. Bruce gives him a rude hand gesture before ending the transmission.

 

\--

 

They will talk it out, and that’s the end of it. The relationship between two founding members has changed – and one member, being Batman, merits fear and cancels protests, if there are any, and there aren’t, so that’s taken care of – and that’s fine. It’s about the mission, Batman reminds them, it’s always been about the mission. Romantic entanglements can become problems, but if they handle it, good. If not, oh well. Life goes on at the Watchtower, and it isn’t until five days after the original broadcast that Clark manages to pull J’onn to the side after J’onn returns from a week long mission.

“Listen, J’onn, I have something to tell you. I wanted to before anyone else does but—”

“If this is about you and Batman, do not bother,” J’onn says, turns to check up on some monitors, flashes of bright costumes, missions in progress on the screens. “I know.”

“Oh.” Clark drums his fingertips lightly on top of some computer panels, brow furrowing. “Who told you?”

“No one. I already knew.” J’onn types a few keys before the corners of his mouth go up, twitch of a smile. “You may want to check on Flash. He’s preparing to initiate a dare with Green Arrow to see who’s able to fashion another broadcast that Batman won’t find out about for at least two days.”

Clark’s half out the area and into the elevator, shouting thanks over his shoulder afterwards.

 

\--

 

It isn’t quite the end of it, at least, there’s also an incident in which Batman debriefs some leaguers and after the third glance given his way he grits out something about kidneys and intestines, something about a boyfriend and ownership, punching and Green Arrow, and that he’s confiscated all security tapes of the comings and goings of the Watchtower for the past two weeks and is perfectly capable of constructing a public screening within the next half hour.

Batman grips the edge of the table in front of him. “Any questions?”

Booster’s hand goes up for a second before Ralph smacks the back of his head. No questions.

It’s one of the most productive debriefings they’ve ever had.

Bruce likes to think so, and Clark assures him it is once he’s swept the area with x-ray vision for any cameras and decides this side room is empty and perfect for celebrating a teaching job well done.

END


End file.
